


'Stupid Genius Broken by Man' (The Abstract Art Called Lawrence's Mind)

by TheWalkingDeanisnotonfireHaus



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Homophobia, I'm sorry this isn't good, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Self-Harm, please accept me mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 15:52:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7807972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWalkingDeanisnotonfireHaus/pseuds/TheWalkingDeanisnotonfireHaus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He left.</p><p> </p><p>He lied. </p><p> </p><p>He promised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Stupid Genius Broken by Man' (The Abstract Art Called Lawrence's Mind)

**Author's Note:**

> All grammar errors are my own. I'm not a writer, I just am overly obsessed with Lawrence. Keep your expectations low, I wrote this in one day when I was supposed to be showering. 
> 
>  
> 
> Trigger warning: self-harm, homophobia and homophobic slur(s), swearing (obviously), child abuse, alcohol abuse?? maybe??

**Was he not good enough?**

The warm liquid travels down his raw throat. It feels warm in his empty stomach. He can't remember the last time that he ate anything. 

**Was he too needy?**

Gripping the drink tightly in his shaking hand, he drags himself out of his bed and to his dimly lit bathroom. He stumbles to the cupboard and grabs his razor. 

**Was he too broken?**

The alcohol doesn't make him forget. He can't forget. Putting the cheap vodka on top of the bathroom sink, he works on removing the blade from the shaving razor. Lawrence can give a quick synopsis of every obscure anime game, give a detailed description of games in 1998, and he can easily explain rotational motion to someone. Being an expert in many fields, taking a blade out of a razor is one of his. 

**Maybe he was too hideous.**

 

He just needs to feel. He needs to feel something. Anything. When the alcohol made him numb, his body aches for some sort of feeling. 

**Maybe he didn't try hard enough.**

 

When he was young, he cut his thighs and hips. White scars were covered by jeans or long shorts, the only one who even saw them was... 

**Maybe his mother was right.**

 

He doesn't want to be this way. If he could choose to just like girls, then he would without taking a breath. Coming out was hard, but his mother's fist connecting to his jaw was harder. 'Whore', 'attention-seeking', 'fag', 'weak', just more lines etched onto his skin. 

**Why can't he be loved?**

 

He swore to his lover that he would never bring a razor to his flesh again, as soft lips caressed his scarred skin. 

**Why can't he get over it?**

 

"Why did you do that to yourself, Larr?" his darling asked one night. Chestnut eyes glanced down at his thighs. 

"I-I guess I just, I don't know. I was a pretty lonely kid. No one really thought it was cool to excel in school, so I became the school's punching bag. And then someone found me staring at some guy's ass, so that clearly helped me not get pummelled every day."

"Fuck, man. You should've told your parents or something."

"The thing is that I did. Turns out that my Catholic parents are homophobic. Go figure. I got used to being both physically and mentally abused, so much so that I became numb to it. I didn't care about anything except getting good grades so I could get the fuck out of that town.

"I guess I was just craving the ability to feel something. I took the screws off of some pencil sharpener, and I just, fuck... And it felt so fucking good. There was blood soaking into the shitty bathroom rug, but I didn't even care."

Why can't anyone hear him when he cries for help? 

"Shit, I talked a lot. I'm sorry, I didn't mean t-"

"Hey," he interrupted, "you're ok, everything's alright. Im glad you told me." His smile could light up the world, he swore to whatever god there might be. 

And he'd be damned if he didn't smile back. He is absolutely screwed. This man is going to take his life away, he swears. 

**Go deeper.**

They're laying on a bed, nothing but a single blanket covering their nude bodies. It took time to finally allow himself to show off his body to the other. It took him three tries, two anxiety attacks, to let the other man undress him. They didn't have sex, not that night. The man only gently grazed over his body with his fingers, saying how beautiful and how proud of him he is. Lying together, hands in each other's hair, the brown-eyed lover spoke in a whisper. 

"I love you."

 

**Go harder.**

 

His hands stopped, in awe of the words that fell off his partner's lips. After a second, he continued stroking his hair, stuttering the words back, smiling. Because Lawrence believed his lie. 

 

**More blood. You need to draw more blood.**

 

His green eyes see nothing but red, bubbling over and dripping off of his wrist. He feels like a canvas, being made into some extravagant art piece. Maybe he'll be put in a museum. He laughs dryly, wondering what the artwork's name would be. Perhaps, 'Stupid Genius Broken by Man'. It'll make people really think. He can hear them running over to the framed beauty now. They're yelling, fighting over who gets to be graced with its presence first. The screaming is getting louder. They're banging on the door outside, begging to get in. Make them stop. His ears are pounding. One is screaming his name. How do they know it's him? 

"Lawrence, I will knock this door down," a man screams. 

Wait, he knows that voice. 

"J-James?" His throat feels like it's being ripped apart. Something large falls. He hopes it's not his vodka. Strong arms grab his shoulders and lightly shake him. 

"Yeah, Lawrence, it's me. Stay with me buddy, you're gonna be alright. Hey, keep your eyes opened. Look at me, Larr. Bruce is calling an ambulance for you, okay?"

Bruce is always there for him, that's what makes him such a good leader. He can act fast in times of trouble. Why does he need an ambulance, though? He's so tired, there's a lot of noise and he wants it to stop. Maybe if he rests for a little while, he'll be ok. 

"Lawrence! God dammit, how many times do I have to tell you to stay awake! You're losing a lot of fucking blood, I'm gonna go grab a towel. And don't you dare bitch to me about how expensive that towel was, later."

He sees the man's blue eyes watering as he quickly reappears with a towel. Placing it on Lawrence's wrist, he glances around the room, eyes landing on the vodka. 

"Really, Larr? If you're gonna drink, at least do it in style," James smiles, though it doesn't seem to reach his eyes. Someone walks into the bathroom. Wasn't the door locked? 

"James, the ambulance is here. Can he walk?" 

Of course he can walk, he has legs. Fucking amateurs. But maybe he'll start walking after a nap. 

"Lawrence! Lawrence, wake up! L-"

***

"Well no one knew that he did this, so calm down," a voice echoed through his head. 

"You should've been taking care of him. Why would you let him be alone? You're all selfish," an angry woman raged. 

"Maybe you should've been a better mom!" 

"Bruce, calm down."

His eyes glaze open and he sees medical equipment everywhere. Ah, so this is a hospital. He checks himself over and realises what went down. He slit his fucking wrists. He looks up and sees his friends and his mom in a standoff. 

"Listen, Ms. Sonntag, what he's saying is that maybe- wait, he's awake," James rushes towards the bed, and the others follow. 

"Morning, Larr," Matt's voice gently says. 

"H-hey," his voice is rough and quiet. He cried a lot over the past few... Days? Weeks? 

"How're you doing?" 

"T-that's a... fucking... dumb question," he strains out. Desperate laughs fill the tense air. 

"Can I speak to my son alone, please?"

"Sorry, but we can't leave him alone. Your rules, ma'am," Elyse's blonde hair bounces as she walks in front of Lawrence's mom. 

"Excuse me, but I'm his mother. I deserve to have some time with him by myself."

"You never acted like his mother," hazelnut eyes stand in the doorway, glaring angrily at the old woman. Lawrence's eyes water as he stares at the man. 

"You have no right to say that, I loved him with all of my heart, despite all that was wrong with him."

"The only thing that's wrong with him is you being his mom, you bitch," he says calmly, stepping closer to her. There is no fear evident in his eyes. 

"Lawrence, c'mon hon-"

"I-I want yo-u to... leave."  
Tears are streaming down his face. 

"You can't just let your friend walk all over you and tell you what to do, Lawrence," his mother complains. 

"I'm not his friend, I'm his boyfriend," the man proudly states, "and based on what you've done to him, I'm pretty sure he wants you to leave too." 

Lawrence can't believe what he's hearing. His love, Adam, is still his? What if it's just a trick to get his mother away? He wishes now that he listened and cut deeper. 

"I knew you were still a faggot," the woman venomously spits out as her heels start to click out the door and down the hall. 

Everyone seems to let out a breath simultaneously. 

"Can I talk to Larr for a sec, guys and Elyse?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

"Take your time."

"I knew you guys were fucking."

A few more sexual remarks later, they left Adam and Lawrence alone. Kovic pulls up a chair next to his bed. As their green and brown eyes meet, looks of guilt show on both their faces. 

"Hey, Larr."

"Adam," Lawrence started. 

"Just, let me talk for a second first. I, well, I left because I thought you were angry at me, love. When we got into that fight, you were more drunk than usual, which is saying a lot. You were mad as shit, and you told me to leave. I knew that you would take me back after you cooled off. I waited for you to call for days. I didn't know you would do this, I had no- fuck, I didn't know. And I'm so sorry that I did this to you, and I totally get it if you're pissed as all hell at me. But if you take me back, I'll never leave you again." Kovic grabbed his boyfriend's left arm, laying gently kisses over the bandage. 

"A-Adam. I'm a fucking moron. I-I'm so sorry. I'm such a-a shitty boyfriend."

"No, love. Don't say that, you aren't. You thought I left you for good, and I'm sorry that I made you think that. But we're okay now, right?"

Lawrence nods, sobbing into Adam's shirt. He missed how his lover smells, how he feels, his voice telling him that it's okay. He missed how he kisses his forehead when he goes to sleep, and how he places a grounding hand on his shoulder when he wakes up from a nightmare. 

And he sure as hell missed him running his hand through the other's hair.

"I love you, Lawrence Sonntag."

"I-I love you, Adam Kovic," he says while smiling, because Lawrence believes him.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote Lawrence as some kind of idiotic robot. Sorry about that. I tried to keep the correct tense throughout, I never realised that I mess that up until recently. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Please do give me some.


End file.
